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A day late - Challenger was HOW long ago?
So, in catching up with my flist, there were two posts (possibly more? But they were the two I noted) regarding the Challenge disaster. Which was 30 years ago (because I'm old). This caused a jaunt down memory lane--I tried to see if I'd posted about it before in January and it doesn't appear that I have.
To that end, I'm going to half-repeat myself from my comment in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wiliqueen's post and expand and elaborate and babble. Because why not.
At the time of Challenger, we were living in Mims, and Dad was an engineer who worked for Lockheed, part of his job was helping prep orbiters for flight (I say that now, and I thought it was kinda cool as a kid, but a part of me thinks it's even MORE amazingly cool now--I know we still have zip-tied tools that he used on the fucking space shuttle). We'd lived in Florida almost a year, at that point--we'd moved there before my brother's birthday (April, and I was always so jealous that he got two birthdays in Florida). We'd seen multiple launches over that time (plus, the ones we'd watched on TV).
And, yes, there is something amazing about standing on the ground with the sun shining on you and this tiny speck of shuttle streaking up towards the heavens.
That, and the sheer amount of work that went into prepping the orbiter for launch -- days in-between the VAB and a couple other buildings (OPF and LCC--I think dad worked in the OPF mostly), then hours to travel at a crawl from VAB (once assembled, obvsly) to the launch pad, then days and days as they waited for the perfect launch window -- which all basically made it pretty awesome when a shuttle would launch.
wiliqueen mentions that people were getting bored and considered shuttle launches routine. And it was true, even in Space Central, and maybe that's because we saw it so often that we got blase about it. Day launches, especially, were pretty run-of-the-mill by the time Challenger rolled around.
Night launches, though, were still massively attended, as night launches are fucking beautiful near the water (and there really is nothing like it).
Even though, theoretically, my dad was the coolest for working on the space shuttle, it still became common-place for us as a family. Also, four kids dragged anywhere can occasionally get annoying.
So. Day launches were regular, and we didn't even have plans to go see it.
But we could watch the launch from our yard (we were in Mims, at the time, about fifteen or so miles from the launch site--as the crow flies; trying to find the distance is hard as google doesn't believe one can take 402 to KSC, the fuck are you on, google, that's how we always drove dad to work [also, that's where the wildlife refuge and Playalinda are!]--so there was still a great view to see). And Florida is flat on that coast, so there weren't any mountains for obstruction.
My mother was a teacher after college, and she only stopped once I was born. So the idea of a teacher going up in the space shuttle gave her a reason to remind us that the shuttle was launching. And I seem to recall thinking that was pretty cool, too. Also, Christa McAuliffe was very bright, cheerful and photogenic, so she was easy to cheer for.
Which is all to say that we had the tv on, but were inside rather than out until right before the launch. And I think it was only dad, Gabe and I on the lawn to watch. And there was possibly whinging about why couldn't it be a night launch from me (I was nine, ok, I was a brat).
Dad was home from work--I'm not sure if it was a day off or if he was working second shift at the time (I want to say the second shift stint was '88, but I'm not entirely sure).
Either way, Dad was home and we were watching and waitng.
The shuttle took off, and it looked normal. Still kinda cool, but sort of dull during daylight.
We were sort of counting down for SRB/tank separation when the cloud just... happened.
I don't think I really felt the impact at first. I was frantically talking about "no, no, the cockpit is one of the things still flying", I think. Or Gabe was, I don't know anymore. But it was complete denial.
Not until Dad was staggering back towards the door, crying did I finally realize that, no. No, the cockpit might have split off as a rescue capsule (which it was built for, in part), but the two wildly switching tails were the SRBs free and clear of any control mechanism. And the orbiter itself was gone.
It's a jumble after that, of watching and re-watching the footage and everyone asking what the hell had happened. Dad was called into work early.
There were other concerns, of course. The shuttle going out so spectacularly killed the space program for the time being, and there were massive lay-offs. Dad was part of one of the voluntary lay-offs, and we packed up everything we owned and moved north to Pennsylvania. Sometimes I wonder if Dad was grieving and needed to just get away from everything sun-related, as you can't get much colder and remote and dark than Butler, PA.
I understand that, now. At the time, I just... we'd moved often when I was a child, so it was just another move.
Early PA memories include Gabe and I took apart the entire Vehicle Voltron set we had with a Phillips-head screwdriver--I think we considered taking apart the lions, but there weren't as many of them. We were hanging out at one of the Salvation Army/homeless shelters--I think it was a precursor to today's soup kitchen places. But we were there as we hadn't anywhere else to go. (I know we moved into a house shortly afterwards, and we might even have just been on the way there and this was a provisions stop--but I was still nine, and it was July, and it was way more entertaining to pull apart Vehicle Voltron and lose pieces down the grating, ok?)
To that end, I'm going to half-repeat myself from my comment in
wiliqueen's post and expand and elaborate and babble. Because why not. At the time of Challenger, we were living in Mims, and Dad was an engineer who worked for Lockheed, part of his job was helping prep orbiters for flight (I say that now, and I thought it was kinda cool as a kid, but a part of me thinks it's even MORE amazingly cool now--I know we still have zip-tied tools that he used on the fucking space shuttle). We'd lived in Florida almost a year, at that point--we'd moved there before my brother's birthday (April, and I was always so jealous that he got two birthdays in Florida). We'd seen multiple launches over that time (plus, the ones we'd watched on TV).
And, yes, there is something amazing about standing on the ground with the sun shining on you and this tiny speck of shuttle streaking up towards the heavens.
That, and the sheer amount of work that went into prepping the orbiter for launch -- days in-between the VAB and a couple other buildings (OPF and LCC--I think dad worked in the OPF mostly), then hours to travel at a crawl from VAB (once assembled, obvsly) to the launch pad, then days and days as they waited for the perfect launch window -- which all basically made it pretty awesome when a shuttle would launch.
wiliqueen mentions that people were getting bored and considered shuttle launches routine. And it was true, even in Space Central, and maybe that's because we saw it so often that we got blase about it. Day launches, especially, were pretty run-of-the-mill by the time Challenger rolled around. Night launches, though, were still massively attended, as night launches are fucking beautiful near the water (and there really is nothing like it).
Even though, theoretically, my dad was the coolest for working on the space shuttle, it still became common-place for us as a family. Also, four kids dragged anywhere can occasionally get annoying.
So. Day launches were regular, and we didn't even have plans to go see it.
But we could watch the launch from our yard (we were in Mims, at the time, about fifteen or so miles from the launch site--as the crow flies; trying to find the distance is hard as google doesn't believe one can take 402 to KSC, the fuck are you on, google, that's how we always drove dad to work [also, that's where the wildlife refuge and Playalinda are!]--so there was still a great view to see). And Florida is flat on that coast, so there weren't any mountains for obstruction.
My mother was a teacher after college, and she only stopped once I was born. So the idea of a teacher going up in the space shuttle gave her a reason to remind us that the shuttle was launching. And I seem to recall thinking that was pretty cool, too. Also, Christa McAuliffe was very bright, cheerful and photogenic, so she was easy to cheer for.
Which is all to say that we had the tv on, but were inside rather than out until right before the launch. And I think it was only dad, Gabe and I on the lawn to watch. And there was possibly whinging about why couldn't it be a night launch from me (I was nine, ok, I was a brat).
Dad was home from work--I'm not sure if it was a day off or if he was working second shift at the time (I want to say the second shift stint was '88, but I'm not entirely sure).
Either way, Dad was home and we were watching and waitng.
The shuttle took off, and it looked normal. Still kinda cool, but sort of dull during daylight.
We were sort of counting down for SRB/tank separation when the cloud just... happened.
I don't think I really felt the impact at first. I was frantically talking about "no, no, the cockpit is one of the things still flying", I think. Or Gabe was, I don't know anymore. But it was complete denial.
Not until Dad was staggering back towards the door, crying did I finally realize that, no. No, the cockpit might have split off as a rescue capsule (which it was built for, in part), but the two wildly switching tails were the SRBs free and clear of any control mechanism. And the orbiter itself was gone.
It's a jumble after that, of watching and re-watching the footage and everyone asking what the hell had happened. Dad was called into work early.
There were other concerns, of course. The shuttle going out so spectacularly killed the space program for the time being, and there were massive lay-offs. Dad was part of one of the voluntary lay-offs, and we packed up everything we owned and moved north to Pennsylvania. Sometimes I wonder if Dad was grieving and needed to just get away from everything sun-related, as you can't get much colder and remote and dark than Butler, PA.
I understand that, now. At the time, I just... we'd moved often when I was a child, so it was just another move.
Early PA memories include Gabe and I took apart the entire Vehicle Voltron set we had with a Phillips-head screwdriver--I think we considered taking apart the lions, but there weren't as many of them. We were hanging out at one of the Salvation Army/homeless shelters--I think it was a precursor to today's soup kitchen places. But we were there as we hadn't anywhere else to go. (I know we moved into a house shortly afterwards, and we might even have just been on the way there and this was a provisions stop--but I was still nine, and it was July, and it was way more entertaining to pull apart Vehicle Voltron and lose pieces down the grating, ok?)